


Certain Informal Discussions

by RovingTiger



Category: The Thick of It (TV), Yes Minister, Yes Prime Minister
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RovingTiger/pseuds/RovingTiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Cabinet Secretary wants a word with the PM's Director of Communications. Rated Mature for the inevitable language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Certain Informal Discussions

                Malcolm Tucker sat at his desk, leafing through papers with one hand, rubbing his forehead with the other and cradling the phone in his shoulder.

                "Look Jeff, it's very simple, we need these proposals killed off, yeah? Bury the memos somewhere deep, and don't even think about letting the press in on this, not even a statement on the proposal revisions you are about to fucking write. It's not like you haven't done this before. Hopefully, it'll take the most committed hack to dig deep enough to even realise this was on the table. While we know the clusterfuck this could cause, no one gives a toss about this as long as they don't read beyond the title, which is boring enough to make Olympic walking fucking fascinating. Congrats to your private secretary on that one, I should send her some fucking biscuits or something." There was a squawk of protest from the phone, which Malcolm cut off immediately with a roar. "Pet project? I don't care if it's your first born fucking child, you cunt, just kill the damn thing! Not only is it unworkable, ludicrously expensive and incredibly immoral, this would unite the press, the City and the fucking Yanks against us, which I have to say is very fucking impressive, well fucking done, to create a shitstorm of such biblical proportions that it would overshadow the Budget tomorrow and probably the next year's one after that. I am protecting you from a resigning issue here, so don't you tell me I'm a bully, I'm you're fucking guardian angel. Just bury it as deep as I want to bury that policy brief up your shitter, or I'll come round to bury you, you miserable little shitehawk..."

                Malcolm was interrupted in full flow by a curt cough from the doorway, too low to be Sam. He glared up at the aged Cabinet Secretary, who was learning against his cane, bearing the merest hint of a smile and an expectant expression.

                "I'm not done with you, fuckslice." Malcolm growled, and slammed the phone down.

                "Which petulant underling was rather rocking Plato's metaphorical vessel of state, Mr Tucker? What on earth was in that proposal?"

                Tucker grinned wolfishly. "It's incredible what damage those fuckers at DoSaC can do if they don't have someone standing on their bollocks. What can I do for you, Sir Humphrey?"

                "There is a certain analogous matter, insofar as _a propos_ the magnitude of that which you very recently had the misfortune to retort, that is to say an administrative blunder, or perhaps a misaimed but ultimately calculated response to a particular strategy, that requires an instantaneous redress of grievances from your particular identity, especially as you are not insubstantially conscientiously liable for the aforementioned topic arising from certain exploits issuing forth from this very habitual bureau."

                "Oh, the leaked lobbying bill?" Sir Humphrey's face dropped slightly. "I know that stuff gives you a hard on, having to explain how much cleverer you are, but don't treat me like one of your fucking ministers. It's not like you ever had to deal with a minister who wasn't fucking useless and could actually understand what you said. I have to deal with Tom, who's got a brain like HAL 9000, and is equally as talented at party management and fucking people skills. Fucking Hacker was the Ant and Dec of British Prime Ministers, two faced, no substance and always chasing the fucking ratings."

                "Very drole, Mr Tucker, but in all seriousness it is imperative that this leak be remedied in some substantial fashion. There are interested parties, both within and beyond the confines of these bureaucratic extremities whose cooperation would be jeopardised if that Bill is even considered to be on the table, so to speak."

                "Yep, that's the plan, as you damn well know. Which one of the companies you've been promised chairmanship has blown a fucking gasket?"

                Sir Humphrey sighed. "None of them have. And frankly, Mr Tucker, the fact that I have yet to abscond to any of them yet at the age of eighty three may suggest that I am not quite as forward thinking, in that respect, as you might think."

                He was interrupted by a harsh laugh from Malcolm. "I doubt anyone has accused you of being forward thinking. Shit, Cardinal Wolsey might have accused you of needing dragging kicking and screaming into the sixteenth century." He was, however, grudgingly thankful for Humphrey's sterling work in infiltrating the boards of half of the FTSE index. "So, the bill is not to the civil service's liking? Too much corporate influence, direct to ministers? You know as anyone that happens anyway, especially as you lot have been hollowed out. Just be glad you're not squirreled away in some agency in fucking Uttoxeter like your old other half, was it Bertie, Barry, Bernard or something?"

                Sir Humphrey gripped his cane a little tighter. "That is far from the point. How can any Private Secretary fully complete their responsibilities with even a modicum of efficiency when they have no idea whom their Minster is meeting, or what shrouded interests are working against them and their interests?"

                "We both know that that's how it works anyway, it's just that those interests are ones you don't like, and that we do. Your job is to do what we tell you to do, is it not?"

                "The spirit of that assertion is true, it must be admitted, but in taking a longer term perspective that is unavailable to those bound by such deceptive and disingenuous features of political existence such as marginal constituencies, focus groups, elections, term limits, party bases, party conferences and parliamentary management, we can facilitate the transcendence of a minister's vision, as valuable and useful as it may be in particular circumstances, and tailor policies to be suitably permanent and effectual in such a way that encourages the populace of your party's governing aptitude."

                Malcolm snorted. "And that's what happens when someone's been in power for fifty years without the threat of unemployment. That threat hangs over me every fucking day, and if it is realised then me, the party and everyone I care for will be thrown to the fucking dogs. Which is why my ministers must be able to talk to the people who actually matter without your arse-licking minions getting in the way!"

                "Listen," Sir Humphrey said, free hand outstretched, "all I ask for is that Permanent Secretaries are notified about these meetings and their contents. No-one else, and I can arrange for discretion in this matter among our ranks, even from the driver pool."

                "And what can you offer in return?"

                "If I may be as bold, I might be permitted to arrange for the gratuitous administrative strenuousness, or as one might say uncharitably, postponement, of a particularly uninspired ministerial employee of this current government, and his unanimously reviled pet policy project which seems little more than a self gratifying and frankly onanistic endeavour with more than an eye on depriving the treasury's first minister and Her Majesty's appointed parliamentary regent of those selfsame titles?"

                Tucker grinned wolfishly. "I think we may have a deal." Tom's desperate to keep Miller onside, he thought, seeing as we're in that period about a year or so before the election where he could cause the greatest damage if he challenges him. I'm under strict orders not to let any ministers or MPs tread on his toes. But if the Whitehall lot can cause unmitigated, unaccountable, non-partisan havoc, Miller could lose momentum, and would go down on the same ship as the rest of us come next May. And after that... might be time to start being nice to Sir Humphrey after all. He wouldn't be going anywhere, he's probably a fucking vampire. "In fact, if you pull that off we could start talking with the PM about rewriting that Civil Service code, maybe get rid of those performance appraisals, eh?"

                Sir Humphrey smiled. "Then may I be so bold as to recommend a particularly _thorough_ private secretary for this minister, Mr Tucker, who is currently egregiously wasted in the Forestry Commission?"

                "No problem, just pop the forms on Sam's desk. I know you still don't have an email. Well, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

                "Quite. Thank you for your time, Mr Tucker."

                Malcolm could have sworn there was a little more of a spring in the Cabinet Secretary's hobble as he left. He leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a chuckle at the thought of JB and Stewart Cunting Pearson having to deal with Sir Humphrey. He didn't have an email, so he would probably fail to appreciate the finer points of Pearson's recently leaked Vision Node proposals for restructuring the civil service along Foucaultian principles. He snapped out of his reverie as his Blackberry rang. He swore under his breath and picked it up.

                "Yes, Prime Minister?"

FIN


End file.
